


Prize

by CerysKitty



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Culture Shock, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerysKitty/pseuds/CerysKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Protect the caravan, rest, come home. It was an easy assignment, especially for a seasoned guard like Prowl, and perhaps he could even do some sight-seeing if it all went to schedule.</p><p>But things are rarely as simple as they should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well I mean everyone else was writing for this Barbarian AU so I wanted to join in.
> 
> This is mostly unedited, kind of just a fic to bash at when I need to break out of a block, that sort of thing. At the end I'll come back and clean it all up, but until then....

It was supposed to be an easy assignment; escort the noble to the next city over, rest up and come home again. A suggested time frame of 3 weeks, allowing for poor weather conditions in the desert paths, and he was hopeful that they’d arrive early and he’d have time to look around Iacon before heading back to Praxus. An almost embarrassingly easy assignment, especially for a guard as experienced as Prowl.

Perhaps it was his own over confidence that left them in chaos, though he was saving wallowing in that guilt for if he got out alive.

“Get under the cart!” He’d had to repeat himself, shouting at the noble and his entourage while he desperately tried to fend off their attackers, but the idiots were just screaming, huddled inside their carriage while the raiders tried came closer. In the end he had to reach in and pull one of them out, forcefully throwing him under the carriage before grabbing the next one, though thankfully they got the hint and began to move themselves. He turned back to the skirmish, and tried to calculate their ever dwindling odds of survival.

The turbo-horses had been the first to go. One dead with a spear through its chest, and while the others had panicked the attackers had descended. The last he’d seen the remaining turbo-horses had been cut free by an attacker and taken already, and had the situation not been so dire, Prowl might’ve found it interesting that the animals were worth more to these nomads than the people dying around him.

The small guard was scattered, each mech singled out, but as bravely as they fought they were no match for the huge frames and strength of the nomads, and by the time Prowl had managed to shoot and kill off one giant mech, two of his team were already dead. They needed to retreat, but that was impossible without the turbo-horses, which meant the objective was simply to try and ensure his wards stayed alive long enough for help to arrive.

He hoped his distress signal had gone through, but they were over a week away from the closest city, and the guard was quickly dwindling down to him alone, and the huddle of useless civilians.

A scream came from behind him, and he whirled around to see one of the servants being pulled from under the carriage by a large golden mech. He analysed the situation in an instant; he couldn’t shoot without hurting one of his wards, couldn’t win in hand to hand combat against the nomad, but he had a knife and maybe he could at least do some damage. He moved quickly, and was already on the nomad’s back before he’d been noticed running at him, and with a solid grip around his throat, he rammed the small knife into his side, slipping between the thick plating and going straight for the softer protoform.

It worked at least, and the servant was tossed to the ground as the nomad tried to pull him off. He managed to barely hold on, one hand firmly around his neck while the other kept a hold of the knife that was now lodged in his side, but try as he might he couldn’t pull the blade free, and with a furious roar he too was tossed aside.

He managed to sit up just in time to see the nomad stomping towards him, seemingly undisturbed by the knife stuck in his side, despite the energon spilling over his golden plating. He’d just barely managed to sit up in the sand when another mech appeared, a frame similar to the other though a deep red. Their warpaint was smudged, though it was easy to see that the decorative black lines were a level above the crude scrawls of the other raiders, and that wasn’t what he should be focussing on, but apparently being close to death was messing with his processor. They both stalked towards him, though the red one seemed a little less angry, and Prowl scurried back as much as he was able, until he felt his back hit a solid lump and the nomads descended.

He didn’t think, just acted, and with a twist he was on his knees, and then it was no effort to throw a handful of the sand into their faces, and stumble away while they cursed.

He didn’t get far. Perhaps a few paces before a strong grip tugged back on a sensor wing and he twisted to try and escape.

The last thing he saw was a pair of scowling faceplates, before a hit to his helm rendered him unconscious.

_____


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :D

Prowl woke to the pain of a dented helm and a dislocated sensor wing, and it was only experience and training that had him holding in a whimper rather than screaming at the agony throbbing across his back. He was upright, leaning against something solid, but the lurching movement suggested he was in the back of some sort of cart, and the constant jolting was only causing further damage and pain to his wing.

He’d have wrenched it back in place himself, were his wrists not tied to something on the floor, keeping him from raising them above his lap, so he settled for hunching over, trying to take as much weight off the joint as he could while he worked out what he could possibly do.

It was obvious he’d been captured- no rescue would have been so fast, nor would they have him tied up. The real question was why had they taken him in the first place, and for the life of him Prowl couldn’t come up with a sensible answer. The nomads didn’t care for the cities, save to raid the outposts every now and then, so any information he had would be useless to them. The only influential mech worth taking for a ransom had been hiding under the carriage, unless they wanted him for a reason to do with his status as captain.

He’d almost convinced himself he was to be sacrificed to a pagan god, when a noise to the side pulled him from his thoughts and he forced himself to sit upright and see what was happening.

He almost wished he’d kept his head down.

It was the two barbarians from earlier, the golden one still scowling at him, though the other looked more annoyed with his friend instead of Prowl. Now that he wasn’t currently fearing for his life, he could take them in a little better, and eyed up the trinkets and decorations draped across their frames. They seemed to be wearing no small amount of ‘jewellery’, in the shape of shards of coloured plexiglass and shrapnel from who knew where, and he tried not to recoil when he realised that the string of objects hanging from the golden one’s neck, wasn’t crafted like he initially thought, but were actually the cleaned up processor-modules of a variety of species, both mecha and animal.

Their frames were still covered in the warpaint, though it was smudged and dusty, and both seemed to have more dried energon on them than their minor wounds would suggest. Another quick glance and he saw that the golden one had a crude patch on his side, and he growled when he noticed Prowl looking, grabbing a sheet of woven material from the side to cover himself with.

Next to Prowl, the red one leaned over to catch his optic, and as his mouth moved the Praxian realised that the strange trill of rudimentary clicks and babbling, was in fact their language. He frowned, and received a pout in return and another string of noises. He almost recognised it now though, and he assumed it must have been related to the binary language of newframes and Priests, and made an effort to try and drag up any knowledge he had on such a basic language. He had to delve deep into his processor; such information wasn’t needed by the general public, and his role in society didn’t warrant such a specialised language, though he knew he had a very basic language pack in his mind somewhere.

He managed to find it, just as the red barbarian again tried to get his attention, this time with a rough grip on his wing, and he was screaming even as he installed the simple language pack.

“– pit, this wing thing is wrong.”

“Well, put it back idiot.”

“N–!” Prowl’s voice fritzed out with the pain as the red mech forced his wing back into place, a sort of agony that he’d never wish on man nor beast. Dimly he was aware of them talking, but his vision was blurred and he could only hear a shrill ringing, that seemed to get steadily louder and more painful as he slipped offline again.

____

He didn’t want to wake up, not if it was anything like the last time, though at least his wing wasn’t as bad now, and whatever he was lying on wasn’t moving. His hands were still tied though, and when he pulled he found he was attached to something heavy and unmovable. His head was still ringing, but he could make out muffled noises from mecha bustling around nearby, and the heavy sounds of something being built or fixed.

He let his senses take in his surroundings one by one, using his sensor wings to try and map out what sort of situation he was in. He was inside somewhere, the muted noises from outside told him that much. Under his hands he could feel something soft, and he realised he was lying on some sort of mat, with his helm cushioned by something padded, probably a sort of recharge pillow if he had to guess. The air smelt like the desert, but there was something sweet too, and inventing harder nearly had him choking as he took in unexpected fumes. Incense then, if he wasn’t mistaken, and underneath the sweet smell he could pick out the stench of mechanimals and old grease. His wings suggested he was in a fair sized room, close to the centre of it, and after careful movements and nothing happening, he surmised that he was alone.

Good.

He onlined his optics, and found himself in the centre of some sort of tent, tied to the central support beam.

Not so good. But he’d work with it.

It was painful, but with a bit of effort he managed to shuffle his way around until he was sitting upright, leaning against the support beam while he waited for his vision to stop swimming. As he waited, he tried to gather as much information about any possible escape routes. The ‘walls’ looked like some sort of woven material, so if he could get a hold of something sharp he could probably slash his way through. Outside sounded busy though, on all sides, so it would be hard to get away unnoticed.

Above his helm there was an air vent in the ceiling of the tent, clearly to allow smoke and the desert heat to escape, but he wasted no time contemplating it as an escape route, unless Primus was planning on granting him the gift of flight as compensation for his current troubles.

Still, there looked to be chests around, so there might be provisions he could steal, or even a weapon. He’d need some sort of map if he wanted any hope of getting to a friendly city, though he’d probably be more than happy to waltz into hostile Tarn or Kaon if it meant he could convince someone to send him home.

The floor was covered in rugs, both made from intricate woven metals and the hides of creatures, and he might have found some of them beautiful if he wasn’t quietly trying to quell a rising sense of panic. He was very throughly investigating what he could of the pile of furs he was sitting on, when noise behind him had him whipping his helm around to see his captors ducking into the tent.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” He was quickly learning that the red nomad was possibly the friendlier of the two, if he could call anyone who’d kidnapped him ‘friendly’. Behind him the golden one just pouted and went to a chest, opening the heavy lid with a grunt to pull out what looked like some sort of cleaning supplies. While he stored his jewellery and wiped his warpaint off, the red one came to crouch in front of Prowl, and it was only pure strength of will that stopped him flinching back as the brute invaded his personal space to cup his chin.

No one spoke while he looked him over, though behind the red one, the golden one looked over to watch for a moment, before huffing and turning back to his task.

“How’s your wing?” The question startled him, but the grip on his chin didn’t relent when he jolted and tried to pull away, and he resigned himself to answering. 

“…It has… Better.” The whirring binary language wasn’t nearly so easy to speak as it was to listen to, and he found his vocaliser straining to reach the right tones of some of the higher chirps.

“Hmm, the healer says it should heal well. Your head too.” The nomad didn’t seem to even acknowledge that Prowl was only in pain because of _them_ , but he thought it best not to try and cause trouble for the moment, at least until he knew what he was dealing with. Prowl stayed quiet and just watched the two of them, until Red finally got bored of staring at him and went over to clean his own warpaint off. The relief of having some personal space was short lived however, as Gold finished his own grooming and came over to flump on the pallet next to the Praxian. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, glanced at Prowl once and then settled in to watch the other nomad as he cleaned.

It was a few moments of somewhat stifling silence before Prowl gathered the courage to talk.

“Where is I?”

A derisive huff of vents from behind him, but Red was quick to answer.

“You say it like this,” he demonstrated with a soft whirr. “And you’re in our tent. We just made camp and we’ll be here for a couple of weeks to sort through supplies and gather fuel, then we’ll move on.” And apparently that was as much as the mech would elaborate. “Are you hungry? We don’t have anything fresh, but there was some stuff we got from that carriage you were with.”

And just like that it all rushed back to him, and he thought he might purge.

“What’s wrong now?” Gold sounded close, but it was Red who rushed over to steady him as he threatened to collapse.

“T-the carriage, what… What did you…”

“Tch, took what–”

“Sunstreaker!” The mech in front hissed at his friend, but was almost soothing as he spoke to Prowl, despite the horror his words caused. “The other warriors all died, pretty bravely for a bunch of city dwellers. Took the supplies we could use or trade, and I think someone’s seeing to the turbo-horses now.”

“…And others? Ones under carriage?”

“Like there’s any honour in fighting weak city dwellers like that.” It was the gold one, Sunstreaker he assumed, who answered this time. “Left them. If they can’t survive then they didn’t deserve to live anyway.”

Prowl couldn’t say he was happy, not by a long shot, but at least the noble and his entourage had a chance of surviving, and with them perhaps he might have some hope of rescue, though the likelihood of them sending someone after him was so slim as to be non-existent. But the others in his charge… He’d failed them, no matter what they’d signed up for, it was his fault for not preparing, for not anticipating an attack, even if such attacks happened perhaps once a vorn these days… He–

“You look ill.” Sunstreaker was scowling again, and Prowl suddenly felt the rage boil up in his tanks and he wanted to lash out, punch the brute in his miserable face and would have were his hands free and were he not interrupted by a cube of energon being shoved in his own face.

“Here, drink. We don’t get liquid fuel often so… Enjoy I guess.” He raised it to Prowl’s lips, and when the Praxian went to grab it himself, he found that the reach of his tether wasn’t quite long enough. He was still a little too shell-shocked to protest when Red tipped it into his mouth, and he hurried to guzzle it down before it spilled, cautious that he might not be fed for a while after this. Next to him, Sunstreaker stared, and he tired to ignore it best he could, until he’d finished the cube and a hand on his chin forced him to look at the golden mech.

He opened his mouth to query the touch, when a thumb brushed over his lip to clean a drop of energon, and Prowl couldn’t help but splutter when the nomad licked the stay drop from his hand.

“…Why am I here?” He hoped his binary clicks portrayed the extent of his question. Why was he here, why didn’t they kill him, what did they want from him and what were they going to do with him. Both mechs looked confused a moment, until Sunstreaker glanced at his friend and clearly shared some sort of silent message because Red sighed and collapsed onto the pile next to them both.

“Your our mate now, so where else would you be?”

“…What.” Prowl thought his processor might crash, and he prayed that he’d misheard.

“I told you this was stupid.” Sunstreaker grunted as he sat up properly and faced Prowl. “You battled us battled. We won. Rules of the desert say we can take you as a worthy mate, or give you an honourable death. Sideswipe liked the look of you though, so now you’re ours.”

“… _What_.”

“I just tol–” Sunstreaker was annoyed, but looked almost shocked when he was interrupted by a string of Neocybex. 

“What in Unicron’s damned name makes you think that you can just– just take me! I’m not some object to be won, what the pit is wrong with you!? Let me go!” By the end he was practically screaming, and outside the tent he heard mech stop to listen, but he couldn’t give less of a frag. “I refuse! I refuse any part in this, let me go!”

Sunstreaker’s hiss of ‘I told you so’ went nearly unnoticed; Prowl was far too busy trying to force his processor to work out a new escape plan, and Sideswipe’s pitiful attempts at placating him were met with an angry hiss and a flailing of sensor wings.

“Let. Me. Leave.” He clicked angrily, and hoped the somewhat violent display of his wings made up for what he lacked in spoken communication.

“Once you’re ours, in our tent, that’s it. The choice is stay or die.” Sunstreaker was baring his denta, but Prowl wasn’t backing down.

“Don’t care, let me leave!”

“Stupid little city dweller! I should’ve just killed–”

“Sunny!” Sideswipe managed to work his way between them, shoving Sunstreaker back with a shove before he turned to Prowl. He tried to cup his cheek again, but Prowl was too angry to even try and pretend to put up with it, and he pulled back, ignoring the pain as he slammed into the central post he was tied to. “Leader gave us his blessing for this, therefore it’s law. We could kill you but… It’s dishonourable to kill or hurt mate, punishable by uh, death for us too.” He shrugged, as if that was somehow the end of it and Prowl should just accept it as ‘oh well, that’s the way it goes.’

Like pit he would.

“You ignore my rules, expect… Want me listen to yours?!” His clicking was erratic, and he was mangling what little he knew of the language but that was the absolute least of his concerns. Another violent jerk of his doorwings stopped Sideswipe from edging closer though, and he pulled himself into a defensive huddle, ready to kick out should the nomad try anything else.

“You’re in our land now though… You have been since you trespassed, so our laws are yours now.” The red mech didn’t seem to understand, and the gold one was staring into the distance, clearly trying to manage his anger. The part of his processor that was slowly starting to deal with the situation told him to calm, to choose his battles and plan for the immediate future. The roiling anger in his spark told him to lash out and teach them exactly what he thought about their ‘laws’.

It was probably a blessing that his processor won, and he refused to speak further on the matter.

“You explain, in… Cover all… Argh!” Curse this language.

“Detail, the word you want is ‘detail’. Tomorrow, we’ll tell you everything you need to know. It’s not expected that we leave the tent for a while, to uh…” He trailed off and looked to the other nomad, who merely shot him a glare. “Well, just show you we’re good mates, you know?”

He didn’t know, and he didn’t think he wanted to know either, but he’d deal with it when it came.

Outside it had become quiet, and a glance up showed that the sun had long set, the stars visible through the hole in the roof of the tent. Suddenly he felt exhausted, like the anger and uncertainty had been the only thing keeping him going for the last couple of hours, and now he just wanted to fall into recharge, and pray that it would all be a dream when he woke up.

“Come on.” He didn’t protest when Sideswipe hesitantly touched his shoulder, nor when he was moved to lay between them, his tether removed from the post and strapped to the red mech’s own wrist, so that they could lay together ‘comfortably’. Somehow he didn’t even make a noise when Sideswipe nuzzled into his neck, nor when Sunstreaker finally decided to pull a blanket over their frames, and he was silent as he listened to them both eventually drop off into recharge.

He watched the stars through the tent, and began to plan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sporadic updates, but writing this is pretty fun so I'll probably keep working on it in between harder stuff~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah this is def looking like lots of small chapters.
> 
> I need to point out I'm not really editing this btw, it's more of a vent fic, just something fun to type away at while I have 10 minutes to spare every now and then, so please don't get your hopes up for twists and any sort of a dramatic plot :C

Prowl didn’t dream, but then he didn’t even recall slipping into recharge either, so it was no real wonder that he awoke feeling little better than when he’d been dragged back into the ‘berth’. He twisted his head to look up. Above him the sky was brightening, not quite dawn but it would come soon, and already he could hear mechs wandering outside, clearly starting their day as soon as they possibly could. He shuttered his optics, and resigned himself to lying there until his captors deigned to wake, and in the meantime he’d try to further elaborate on the half thought out plans he’d conjured up last night. It wasn’t particularly comfortable though; Sideswipe was cuddled to his chest, but behind him Sunstreaker had moved during the night, and now pinned one wing to the berth, and he could feel the other’s exvents along the back of his neck. He needed to focus, and called up the last file of work he’d been doing the night before. _‘Dig his way out of the tent._ ’

Clearly he’d been more tired than he thought, and he promptly deleted _that_ idea.

Time passed, and while he’d fleshed out some more promising ideas, the sheer lack of options had him almost thinking about digging again, and he was seriously considering putting it back on the list when he felt movement behind him. Under the blanket, a hand moved, and he was shocked to feel that it had been on his waist the entire night without him noticing. He tried to wait it out, and hoped that it was just Sunstreaker moving in his recharge, but when rough digits slipped across his spike cover, he couldn’t stop from tensing. Apparently his movement went unnoticed, and the digits slipped further, until they pressed over his modesty panel, and rested right where his exterior node was hidden. He lay stiff, unmoving while the hand just sat there, but it seemed the nomad truly was still in the depths of recharge, and he eventually managed to relax a fraction, and try to twitch in a way that would push the hand off him.

“Mm, keep still…” Sideswipe mumbled from his front, cuddling fractionally closer, and began to stroke his own hand where it lay on Prowl’s hip. The hand on his array thankfully didn’t move, and he guessed it was Sunstreaker’s, but the relief was short lived as no sooner as he forced himself to relax, than something wet pressed against the back of his neck. He couldn’t stop himself from batting his wings, hitting the mech who lay between them soundly, and the second he felt Sunstreaker roll, and unpin his other wing, he pushed himself forward, escaping the touch on his back and array, while pushing Sideswipe away so that he could scramble upright and flare his wings at them.

“Don’t touch!”

Sunstreaker looked ready to murder him, and Sideswipe just looked annoyed at having been woken up so rudely. Between them the tether was pulled taut, but Prowl refused to come when the red mech tried to beckon him back into the pile of skins and blankets. In the end, it was Sunstreaker who reached over to grab him, and no matter how he struggled or flailed his wings, it didn’t stop the brute from pulling him back into the berth, until he was on his back with a mech lying on each wing, pinning him in place.

“Get off! Off!” He was almost screaming, but neither mech paid much attention to it. They shot a look to each other over him, and then Sideswipe tugged on his bound wrists, until he was holding them in one strong hand, and then his legs were pinned by theirs, effectively trapping him and allowing no movement save for angry twitches.

“Hush, it’s too early for us to be getting up.”

“Don’t t–”

“By the stars, we won’t okay? Sunny just wanted to make you feel good…” Both mechs rested their own helms by his, and the tickle of their exvents was already annoying him, but he could barely even twist his head to see either of them. Sunstreaker was quiet, but Prowl could see out of the corner of his optic that the yellow brute was still glaring, and with a huff he turned as best he could to face Sideswipe, uninterested in giving Sunstreaker more attention than he deserved. Well, neither deserved his attention, but at least Sideswipe looked at him without trying to kill him.

They lay in silence for a while, and it even seemed that Sideswipe had fallen back into a light doze,. He couldn’t say he wanted to join him; their weight on his wings wasn’t inconsiderable, and it was only the layers of pelts under him that stopped the joints crippling him with fresh pain, but they still ached and no matter how he fidgeted he couldn’t get them to move. In the end he gave up, and tried to listen to whatever was going on outside, but all he could hear was the general noises of a camp; chatting and laughing, noises from the animals and the harsh sounds of mechs sparring. He could smell easier too, now that the incense had burnt away, but the stench of a dirty camp was hardly enjoyable. There was something else though, that reminded him of energon and scorched metal, and it was to his embarrassment that it caused his tanks to gurgle, and announce his apparent hunger to the room.

“Hungry?” Sideswipe mumbled into his neck, and before he could answer the weight from Sunstreaker lifted as the golden mech wandered over to a chest on the other side of the room. It was a momentary relief however, as the nomad was quick to return with a basket, woven from different coloured strips of metal, and resettle himself next to him. With the both of them pinning him, he wasn’t sure what they expected him to do, but the answer was clear when Sunstreaker held a cube of gelled energon to his lips.

“Eat.”

“What is it?” He’d only ever seen properly solid food at noble gatherings, where he was guarding and thus not permitted to even go near the guests, let alone the food. Commoners had a way to solidify their liquid rations into gels, and rust sticks were a popular, cheap treat, but this… This he had no name for, and he was loathe to trust it.

Sideswipe clicked a string of noises into his audial, but it didn’t match up to anything he’d ever heard of, so Sunstreaker huffed and explained.

“When the _whirr-click_ are well fed, those small ones, with the useless wings?” Prowl assumed he was talking about some variety of poultry he’d seen roaming wild in the desert. “Feed ‘em a lot of those desert crystals, and they excrete this stuff. Tastes good. Eat it.”

“You… Eat waste?” He blanched and recoiled from the cube near his face. Primus let him have misunderstood this, please tell him this wasn’t happening. Thankfully, Sideswipe made a disgusted noise, even as Sunstreaker spluttered.

“What the– No! Their waste is used to grow things, this is… It comes from a different part of them. It tastes _good_ , just eat it you glitch.” Sunstreaker pressed the cube against his lips, until there was no possible space for Prowl to move away from it, and it wasn’t until it had been smeared halfway across his mouth that he finally gave in. He closed his optics as he opened his mouth, and tried not to gag when Sunstreaker pressed it inside. It was… He held it there, unable to bring himself to chew or swallow, and as it melted he was hit with the flavour. It _was_ good, it was really, _really_ good, and his optics brightened as he sucked and swallowed and he quietly hoped he might get another.

“You liked it then? Good. They’re pretty much a staple of our diet I guess.” Sideswipe had onlined his optics to watch, and from what Prowl could see was almost smiling. “The next time we move on, I think we’re going nearer to some hunting grounds though, so there’ll be lots of new stuff to try then. You want another?” Prowl nodded tentatively, but recoiled again when it was pressed to his mouth.

“I can feed myself.” He tugged on his tether, but Sideswipe didn’t let him go.

“Mates feed their mates.” Sunstreaker’s explanation offered nothing, but Prowl cautiously took the cube from his digits anyway, and savoured the flavour as long as he could.

“Sunny kind of got it… We feed you, to show you we won’t hurt you yeah? That you can trust us.”

Prowl chocked on his mouthful, spluttering and jerking as he tried to clear his intake.

“Trust?! You stole me!” It was a wonder he was managing to talk without raging on in Neocybex again. “I am not animal to tame! Let me go!” His struggles were fruitless though, as the nomads just leant on him more heavily, until his wings hurt and he wore himself out fighting. When his ragged intakes had stopped, Sideswipe thumbed his lips, dragging away the mess left from the gel, and sucked his thumb, much like Sunstreaker had done the night before.

“You’ll understand one day… Maybe one of the elders can explain it better though.”

“Nothing to explain, you killed comrades. Stole me. Force me to _mate_.” To his surprise, both mechs recoiled at his words, anger flashing across both of their faces until they calmed themselves and cuddled back in to his frame.

“A mate is not… Mating. We’d never force you. Elders would kill us anyway if we did.” Prowl tried to wrap his head around the nomads words. The difference in speech was subtle, but it seemed like there was a difference between being someone’s mate, and actual ‘mating’ or interfacing, but he still didn’t trust their words, no matter how appalled they seemed at the suggestion they might rape him.

“You still force me to be here. Force me to be mate.”

“But… We didn’t want to kill you though?” Sideswipe just couldn’t seem to wrap his processor around what Prowl was saying, and with a growl of frustration, he decided to leave it alone. He’d bring it up later, when he had a better grasp of the language and perhaps had earnt a little more freedom to move and speak.

“I am still hungry.” He glared at Sunstreaker as another gelled cube was offered up, but he opened his mouth for it anyway. He couldn’t make them understand, not yet, but he’d be damned if he was going to go hungry because of his own frustrations and their complete ignorance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quickly bashed out chapter~
> 
> This thing is actually developing some sort of plot wtf, I didn't sign up for this...

Two tedious days later, and the monotony of sitting in the same dusty room was livened up by shouting outside the tent. Prowl was up in an instant, or as much as he could be still tethered to the central tent post, but he got ready to kick and struggle if it came to it. It didn’t, as no sooner as the shouting started, it also seemed to stop, and the tent flap was thrown open by an angry yellow nomad, with his friend? Lover? Tagging behind, struggling to calm him down.

“Sunny please…”

“Shut up, it doesn’t matter.” Prowl had no idea what they were talking about, but Sunstreaker looked ready to lash out so he didn’t speak up, and tried to pull his wings behind his back as much as possible, less thy become some sort of target. Apparently they were too caught up with each other to notice him, and he watched as Sunstreaker paced, kicking up the floor rugs and swatting Sideswipe away from where he tried to get close.

“Sunstreaker please just… Let’s talk about this later yeah?” Eventually Sunstreaker stopped long enough for Sideswipe to press against his back, and Prowl tried even harder to go unseen. It was a strangely intimate moment, and one he felt he shouldn’t have been a part of, especially when Sideswipe’s touches seemed to stray a little towards even more intimate places. He flicked his wings noisily, and Sideswipe pulled his hand from Sunstreaker’s array like he’d been burnt.

“Oh, you’re up!”

“Yes. Can… Can you untie me?” He’d asked before, but they’d always been hesitant, and so far the most he’d got them to give him was a walk around the room, while tied to Sideswipe, so that he could stretch his legs.

“Just put him on one of the chains we use for the hounds.”

“Sunstreaker!” The mech in question wasn’t even looking, too busy rummaging through a chest and pulling out a variety of objects. Prowl watched him pull out several rolls of coloured twine before he turned his attention back to the other mech.

“Need to walk…” He did, he really did and honestly if he had to be chained to the post like some creature, he’d gladly welcome it. “Chain is okay, just need to move.” Sideswipe didn’t seem convinced, but with a huff of his vents he pulled away, left, and returned moments later with a length of chain attached to some sort of collar. Prowl sighed, but resigned himself to this new level of humiliation, and bared his neck when Sideswipe approached.

“It’s too big for your neck, you could probably just pull it off. Here, raise your arms.” Prowl did, and tried not to flinch as Sideswipe secured the collar around his waist, snapping it locked at the back so that the chain trailed behind him. “Comfortable?” Prowl glared, but said nothing as he held up his wrists, and the next sigh was one of relief when Sideswipe pulled the ropes free, undoing the tight know with ease. With little prompting, Prowl stood and stretched, ignoring Sideswipe’s interested once-over, too thankful to be off the ground to care about how on display he was.

“Thank you.” He meant it. The nomads didn’t have to do this for him, particularly when one of them was in such a poor mood, and he hoped that if he played his cards right, he might be able to get more little favours from them. If he could somehow get outside, to get an idea of the camp layout… That would be the next step of his plan, and he’d start planning as soon as his captors left him alone enough to think.

In the meantime, he wandered a lap of the tent, carefully avoiding Sunstreaker and whatever he was doing on the floor, and while he stretched sore joints and cables, he gave everything in the tent a once over, mostly to see if anything could be useful, but there was definitely an element of genuine curiosity. He hadn’t realised he’d been staring at a strange cube until Sideswipe popped up next to him, startling him from his thoughts.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you jump, just wondered what you were looking at.” When Prowl nodded to the cube, the red mech picked it up with a pout and handed it to him. “Ori– I mean, someone gave it to us once, said it was some sort of puzzle, but neither me nor Sunstreaker have managed to solve it yet.” Prowl recognised the type, a sort of sliding puzzle, that required specific colours and lines to match up, and could take vorns worth of fiddling with if they were of the more complex variety. This one wasn’t quite the most complex one he’d seen, but it was still a challenge, and a quick inspection showed that the nomads hadn’t even managed to get a single panel right so far. More importantly though, was just who had given it to them. It was a city toy, and if he had to guess by the colours and patterns, something from one of the northern cities like Iacon or Protihex.

“It is hard puzzle. Will take time.” He tapped it, and his suspicions were confirmed when it rung hollow. “Has thing inside, to find when finished.”

“Huh, I wonder what’s in it. You any good at them? Me and Sunny got bored, but if you want to try then go for it.”

“Thank you.” At least it was something to keep his hands occupied, and he wandered back over to the ‘berth’ to have a fiddle, at a loss for what else he could possibly do with his time. Sideswipe flopped next to him, ignored the way Prowl flinched and just sat to watch his friend, and it wasn’t long before Prowl himself became distracted by whatever it was the yellow mech was doing.

Some sort of craft, he guessed, with Sunstreaker braiding the coloured twine, twisting the shorter lengths into one long braid, and even in the dim light of the tent Prowl quietly marvelled at the way the colours glimmered and shone. Sunstreaker didn’t seem to notice them staring, or perhaps he was just used to it, but it as interesting to watch his fingers work, and he found himself relaxing back, lulled by the almost hypnotic display.

“Sunny gets really caught up when he’s working.” Sideswipe’s voice was hushed, clearly trying to not disturb the other mech.

“What is doing?”

“Weaving a basket or something. Once he’s got a long enough braid, he’ll start turning into a bowl or box, not sure what Hook asked for to be honest.” Prowl watched quietly, until he realised that ‘hook’ was a name and not a tool.

“Hook?”

“Oh, he’s the tribe healer. Sort of. Sunny’s trading him for something, but he’s pissed because this’ll wipe out the last of his supplies, and we’re not sure when we’ll get more.”

“I understand.” He wondered what he might be trading for, but wasn’t certain his language skills would be up to the task of asking, and it was honestly much more relaxing just to watch him work. Though he did manage to wrangle out another question he’d been thinking. “Though you were warriors?”

“Well, yeah. But if all we did was fight, we’d be useless to the tribe most of the time. Everyone has skills they work on on top of fighting, so… Sunny makes stuff. I do a lot of uh, experimenting with the food, making it last longer or taste better, you know?” It was an interesting insight to the nomad life, and he guessed it made sense, though he could never picture Sideswipe in a traditional kitchen. Across from them, Sunstreaker started to weave the braid onto some sort of frame, and slowly it began to take shape into a sort of wide, shallow bowl.

“You hungry?” Sideswipe pulled him from his thoughts, and when he realised that yes, he was, he nodded. Perhaps this time they’d let him feed himself? No, Sideswipe still came and held the cube out for him to take, but Prowl took a vicious delight in biting the mech’s fingers when they lingered too long.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is pretty damn good for getting me past writer's block :U

More days passed, and Prowl was sure he’d have lost count of them, were it not that keeping track of time was the only thing for him to really do with his captivity. Sunstreaker had finished the bowl two days ago, and with it gone, so was his entertainment from watching the golden mech work. He played absentmindedly with the puzzle from time to time, but he had no real interest in solving it, but at least it kept his hands busy, and helped stopped him from scratching at himself or the ‘collar’ around his waist.

The sand was impossible to ignore. No matter how clean the tent was with it’s rugs and well sealed ‘door’, the sand crept in and got everywhere, in joints and seams, and it itched like something he couldn’t describe. The few trips across the desert he’d been on had been short, and there had been cleaning solvents and the promise of a deep soak when he got home, but this… He squirmed, desperately trying to itch at his wing joints where the sand and muck seemed to deliberately congregate. This was hell, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about it. Even Sunstreaker, as fastidious about his appearance as he was, seemed to carefully ration his cleaning supplies, while Sideswipe only cleaned himself off enough to not get any dirt in the berth.

He squirmed again, and fiddled with the puzzle desperately. If he started to scratch at his seams, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop, and he had no desire to damage his plating trying to clear out delicate seams with clunky fingers.

____

By the time the two nomads came back to the tent, he’d almost solved one side of the puzzle, but with his concentration shattered by their arrival, he couldn’t help but shudder when the itching seemed to begin again.

“You okay?” Sideswipe was always the one to talk first, usually while Sunstreaker went to occupy himself with polishing his own frame.

“Sand it– ” His sensor panels jerked without thought, and Prowl cringed as it just made the unbearable itching worse. “It hurts?”

“‘Hurts’? Do you mean like pain or just, an ache?” He hurried over to where Prowl was sat on the berth and sat behind him. “Let me see… Oh, pit what’s happened?! Sunny! Come look.”

Prowl whined when Sideswipe gently touched on of the hinges, and for once Sunstreaker didn’t make a comment, just moved quickly to sit behind him and see for himself. Another hand touched him, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing into it, the relief just enough to offset the dull ache and discomfort from the nomads being so close to such a delicate part of his frame.

“It’s inflamed, too much dirt and sand, and this part,” he touched one of the thick cables that allowed Prowl to move his sensors, and he couldn’t stop from flinching. “Is swollen, looks like there’s a crimp in the line. It itches yeah?”

“Y-yes…” That had to be the right word, and with his nod Sunstreaker’s hand dove into the delicate parts and began to massage, scratch away at whatever he could find, and Prowl went limp in his hands. His fingers flexed around the puzzle he was still holding, in time with the way Sunstreaker moved his fingers, dragged along cables and soothed the itch.

“Sides, go get something to clean the sand out. And a brush, and see if you can get someone to lend us a salve, to stop the swelling.”

“Sunny, we haven’t got–“

“I’ll sort it out, tell them I’ll make whatever they want if they get the right supplies, or we still have some of those energon treats left from the raid. Just get it all.”

The conversation didn’t make much sense to Prowl, nor did he find that he cared much, not as long as the nomad kept on moving his hands like that. It was hard to keep his composure, and when deep scratch flaked some hard congealed mud from deep inside his back, he moaned and flared the plating, pushing back into the hands.

“…You should’ve said something. This dirt, it’s been building up for a while…” Prowl just shook his head, and focussed on the way Sunstreaker massaged his tensor cables, rubbing out the crimps and working until the energon flowed properly again. “Your wings… You shouldn’t be recharging on your back, should you?”

“No…” And he definitely shouldn’t have two heavy lumps of mech on them each night either, though at least the berth was enough padding to stop it from actually hurting, though clearly it wasn’t as good as he’d hoped.

Sunstreaker didn’t say another word after that, just focused on his task, turning Prowl into a whimpering pile of much before Sideswipe finally came back, arms full with a filled bucket, and a couple of jars of what must have been some sort of salve. Setting them down, Sideswipe pulled out a wide, flat basket and stool from somewhere and both large mechs helped move Prowl into the middle of the room, where they sat him on the stool in the middle of the tray. Then, all Prowl knew was bliss as Sideswipe started at his feet, and Sunstreaker at his wings, and between them they cleaned out every inch of his frame, even going so far as to take the collar from his waist so they could wash under it.

First a dry brush, to dust out as much sand as possible, and then they rinsed every seam with cups of the liquid, some sort of natural solvent he assumed. The wide tray he was sat in caught it all, so that they could reuse it, until he felt cleaner than he’d been in weeks, and the itch was long gone. Careful hands rubbed the salve in, something sweet smelling and cooling, and while Sunstreaker kept up his careful touches, Sideswipe shook out the berth, removing and cleaning off each rug, pelt and blanket, before putting them all back in a careful pile.

Sunstreaker carefully pulled Prowl to his feet, and stood back to let Prowl stretch and twist his frame, until the plating settled back down and he could fully enjoy being able to move his sensor panels again. He didn’t miss the way both mechs stared, but once more he ignored it, too happy to be finally clean to try and tell them to stop.

“Thank you.” Once more they’d gone beyond what he’d ever expected.

“Should’ve told us, we don’t want you uncomfortable or in pain.” Sideswipe stood to lead him over to the berth, where he settled comfortably in the cleaner pile of blankets, the red mech close to his side, but thankfully not touching. It seemed outside of recharge and the grooming, they were still wary of touching him, and Prowl would endeavour to keep it that way. Still, that argument could wait until he better spoke the language.

“What you trade?” He was curious what a bucket of solvent and salve was worth, and wanted to learn as much about the tribe as possible in case it aided his escape later.

“Uh…” Sideswipe shot a glance to Sunstreaker, who was listening while he cleaned up the rest of the room. “Sunny, they want uh… Megatron gave me the solvent for free, just said he wanted us to hurry up with the uh… _everything_. But the salve, I could only get it from Swindle–“

“Are you serious?!”

“–And he wants you to paint him something, says he’ll get the supplies but… yeah, sorry bro.”

“That thieving little…” Sunstreaker’s tirade fell to an angry growl, and Prowl flinched back when he came near, though the golden mech merely stormed back and forth, pacing with a look on his face that promised death.

“Trade is unfair?” Prowl was quiet, and directed his question to Sideswipe, who always seemed willing to answer.

“Yeah…” He didn’t seem willing to explain further, so Prowl just tried to ignore them both, though it was hard when they were the only entertainment in the room. He stroked his waist, enjoying not being tied for however long they’d give him, while thinking on their words, trying to build his own vocabulary. He was thinking on what ‘bro’ could possibly mean, when it hit him.

“Brothers?!” His shout seemed to jolt Sunstreaker from his mood, but the two only stared at him a second before they glanced at each other, clearly uncertain and more than a little tense if their stiff frames were anything to go by. “You mean brothers, yes?”

Sunstreaker looked like he wanted to run, but Sideswipe waved him to come sit down with Prowl, and the two mechs sat beside him, just in view enough to hold a conversation.

“Yeah… We’re… We’re split sparks.” They seemed uncomfortable, but Prowl couldn’t fathom why. Such a blessing was rare and cherished in Praxus, to the point where twins were the most desirable mechs to bond with. No one of his own status could ever hope to even have a pair of twins look at him, let alone speak with him or… or…

Oh frag his ‘mates’ were twins, and his frame didn’t seem to care that he’d been kidnapped, he still felt the blush light up his cheeks.

“Why… Why unhappy?” They clearly were, even if Sunstreaker huffed when he brought it up.

“Twins are unlucky, we… Sunny?”

“Just tell him, he’ll find out anyway.” They both avoided looking at him, but Sideswipe continued regardless.

“We were abandoned at the sparkling ceremony… Every year, the head clan has this ceremony, so that if you’re carrying a new spark, you can put it in a frame. Ours… Our carrier didn’t know until he got there, and we’re lucky the elder put us into frames instead of snuffing us, but our carrier’s clan didn’t want us so…” Sideswipe trailed off, and Prowl looked to Sunstreaker for any help filling in the rest of the story.

“We wandered until Megatron took us in. He doesn’t give a frag about us being twins, but he liked that we could fight. Can’t say the same for anyone else in the tribe though…”

“Then why… Me?”

“Mates mean respect in the tribe and… We heard Praxians like twins.” ‘Like’ was an understatement, but he didn’t exactly care to share that information. Neither twin looked like they wanted to continue the conversation, and Sunstreaker was almost twitching in his effort to stay sat down. But this was… This was news. It didn’t change anything, but it gave him some information to work with, an inside look at the tribe’s dynamics.

It didn’t change anything, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t quietly flattered, the Praxian in him screaming that he’d be noticed by twins of all things. And later, when they finally tied his waist again, and settled down to recharge, this time comfortably on his front with his sensor panels spread over them both, he’d be lying if he said he was bothered by the way they snuggled close, that his coding didn’t soar a little at how good it felt to have twins either side of him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure this counts as a kinkmeme fill given I completely disregarded the preferred characters, but hey I'll try and include some of the kinks that were asked for anyway.
> 
> Not sure how often I'll be updating this, but it'll probably be lots of short chapters and hopefully it'll work out alright in the end.


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